#all that work just to be stabbed by a bunch of wannabe revolutionaries

[doobydoobydoowau]

imagine this: you're the baddest bitch in the Roman Republic. you have spent the past few decades fighting, fucking and planning to take control of the known world. you've killed millions of people. you became the fucking pontifex maximus and used some guy's idea to reinvent the calendar. you were the first roman to have a terrible vacation experience in the UK. you won a civil war. your best friend likes to commission naked statues of you and stand in front of them calling you a king at parties.

it's the 15th March 44 b.c.e and life is good. the people love you and you just became a dictator for life. you leave your mansion, ignoring your wife's pleas for you to stay (venus above that woman is in love with you) and shake off the soothsayer who keeps following you around and talking about your doom (spurinna is obsessed with you). you swagger into work, sit down, and are immediately stabbed by a bunch of your coworkers. you stagger around for a bit feeling sorry for yourself, before collapsing down dead at the statue of the guy that you had that civil war against. what a way to go.